


Siren Call

by mooningsammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I wrote this awhile ago, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, a little pining!sam, as usual, it's crappy and short but i wanted to post something, takes place after the siren episode?, whenever that was?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooningsammy/pseuds/mooningsammy
Summary: Dean's siren was, well... the perfect guy.Sam's siren was... Dean.Hey, the heart wants what it wants.





	Siren Call

**Author's Note:**

> guys i don't even know how long ago i wrote this but it isn't very good. here it is anyway, short and to the point.

**Siren Call**

Sam knew what Dean saw, knew what the creature said to him before he changed Sam, too. He looked different to Sam, until Sam only knew which one was which by who could control him. Two Deans. Again. He hated when people stole his brother’s face to use against him. But…

“Sam?”

“Huh?”

“What did it look like to you?”

Sam flinched, smacking his head off of the bathroom mirror. “What?” he asked softly.

“Sammy… what did he look like to you?”

Sam shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, leaning on the doorframe to the motel bathroom. “Dude, are you bleeding?”

Sam turned back to the mirror, and yeah, he was, because he hit his head hard enough to crack the glass, and it really freaking hurt, too. “Aw man…”

Dean rolled his eyes and disappeared for a moment, coming back with the first aid kit. “Sit down before you hurt yourself… again.”

He sat on the toilet lid and Dean on the edge of the tub, leaning over, so close to Sam’s face, and he had to close his eyes, because he couldn’t look into Dean’s, not now, not when he was like this.

And he was so _gentle,_ Sam almost couldn’t stand it, he was melting--

“Sammy, I don’t want perfect.”

His words made Sam tense, and then he choked out a response. “D?”

Sam guessed Dean might just be trying to keep him distracted while he cleaned out the cuts on the left side of his forehead. Why else would he bring up something when he probably loathed things that Sam had said in that motel room? “Sammy, you gotta know that whatever that siren said, he was wrong. Because I don’t _want_ perfect. I have everything I need, and even if there was a person exactly like that, I wouldn’t _want_ them.”

And Sam relaxed so fast he might’ve fallen over if Dean wasn’t holding him by his jaw--not tight, gentle--to keep him still. “That raises the question of what you want, Dean.”

“I want my pain-in-the-ass little brother to hold still while I go find the damn medical tape,” Dean muttered softly, patting him on the cheek as he stood up. When he came back, he started talking about getting food and if Sam wanted a salad.

“No.”

Dean paused, looked him in the eye. “What?”

“What?”

“Since when do you not want rabbit food?”

“Since my big brother looked at me and stopped seeing a stranger,” he answered softly.

Dean’s hands, which knew exactly what to do even when he wasn’t giving them his full attention, ceased the taping of gauze for a moment. He looked down at the floor. “Sam--”

“Wait. My turn to say something.”

He waited for Dean to nod and return to his task before opening his mouth again.

“I know that I make a lot of mistakes, and that you always follow behind me trying to fix them. I know I am stubborn and absurd. I know that I could probably single-handedly destroy the world, if what they say is true.” He sighed, feeling the ache set in--not a physical ache that could be cured with rest, but an ache in his soul, as if something was still missing. “But I can be saved. You save me every day and you don’t even know it.”

“How?” Dean asked. His voice cracked. Sam hid a smile.

“The first thing you do every day when you wake up is look around to see where I am.”

Dean’s eyes flickered from his work to Sam’s gaze and back again.

“The second thing you do is decide whether I need a joke, a taunt, food, a fight, or ignored.”

Dean lowered his hands, nodding that he was finished.

“The third thing you do is watch me to see if I’m hiding something or not, and whether it deserves attention. More often than not, it’s because I’m doing something reckless that you’ll probably be forced to correct.”

A soft blush was coloring Dean’s cheekbones and the tips of his ears.

Sam smiled. “Then, you make sure I’m taking care of my morning routine before kickstarting your own. Some days, you let me sleep later than you, most days we’re up around the same time.”

The bathroom was warm from Sam’s hot shower before he sustained his injury, and the boys felt the heat cling to them.

“Next, you choose somewhere to eat, because you know I’ll be a grouchass if we hit the road and I haven’t had my morning coffee, but you play it off like you’re the one who might starve. And you still make sure I’m eating enough, even though you’re the one who starved when we used to run low.”

The blush was steadily creeping to cover more bases, such as Dean’s neck and jaw.

“You get me things when I’m running low, even though I could run and get it myself.”

“Where is this going?” Dean whispered, and Sam decided they should leave the bathroom, but he wasn’t ready to stop because he didn’t want Dean to distract him. “Why don’t we go sit in there? It’s cooler.”

Sam smiled. Dean, still taking care of him.

“You don’t let me shop for clothes at the second-hand stores, because you deliberately pull the nicer ones for me, if they’ll fit, and take the shoddier ones for yourself.”

“You always had to wear my hand-me-downs growing up,” Dean said softly. “I had four years of new things.”

“Dean, all younger siblings get hand-me-downs. It’s a rite of passage.”

“Yeah, but what you got from me wasn’t taken care of as well as other kids.”

“But it told stories, D.”

Dean sighed, studying the floor while they made their way to the beds.

“Dean… You take care of me, even now, and even when you felt like I wasn’t Sammy anymore, because you’re the only person who will ever know how, who will ever do it right, the only person that I could ever _love_ this much.”

Dean looked up from the carpet. “Sammy, what did it look like?”

A shaky sigh. “Dean, the siren looked like you. Because you’re the only perfect thing I could _ever_ imagine.”

Dean sat him down on one of the beds and knelt in front of him, hands on Sam’s calves. “Sammy, I don't want perfect, because I want you. You and your flaws and your qualities. You aren't perfect and it doesn't matter because I love you anyway.”

Sam tipped forward until their foreheads were just barely touching. “Promise?”

“Yeah Sammy. Promise.”


End file.
